


A Stitch In Time

by PinkLetterDay



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oliver Queen's trauma conga line, Oliver and Iris friendship, So much angst, untagged plot twist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-10 17:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15296817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkLetterDay/pseuds/PinkLetterDay
Summary: Oliver hadn't expected his world to come crashing down when he had sent his boyfriend off to  see the Particle Accelerator launch. All he can do now is hold on to faith as Barry sleeps on - until he witnesses a miracle.But sometimes even miracles come at a price.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Oliver knew it was a bad idea to start necking in public view at the metro station but he couldn't help himself. They were lucky it was late and the other stragglers waiting for the eleven pm train were few. Besides, this was the last taste and feel of his boyfriend he was going to get till New Year's, who was looking unfairly adorable in his peacoat with his windswept hair.

"You are so bad at getting rid of me," Barry laughed as Oliver kissed his way down his jaw. 

"Yes," he murmured, licking the shell of Barry's ear, pleased at the shiver it elicited, "that's clearly what Im trying to do."

"Cant stand the sight of me already, huh?"

Oliver cupped his face and kissed him deeply. They were both panting when he drew away, thumb tenderly brushing the kiss-swollen lips. "You have no idea."

They leaned their foreheads together, breath misting between them. "Mmm. This is a terrible plan," Oliver grumbled. "I hate sleeping without you."

"Hey, It's just for a few days," Barry soothed, pecking his lips. "Should be enough time to break the news to Joe about who I'm dating -"

" - I'm sure he'll be thrilled -"

" - and smooth things over so that when you fly in to meet him at New Year's, he'll be willing to give you a chance," Barry grinned at him. "I mean, he'll grunt and glare and do his whole cop Dad routine but he won't -"

" - go for his gun?" Oliver deadpanned.

"Don't be so dramatic," said Barry, pulling him firmly in by his coat lapels. "Joe's not unreasonable, just protective." 

Oliver raised a brow. "You forget. I have some experience with dating the kids of cop Dads."

"True," Barry nodded solemnly, "but your experience is coloured by having dated both kids at once."

"Touché," Oliver conceded, "I'm sure that will be a point in my favour when it comes up." 

Barry titled his head, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Are you actually afraid, Mr. Scourge of Starling City?" 

"Is that my new nickname? Shame, The Arrow was kinda cool."

"No, but seriously," said Barry, entwining their fingers in reassurance. "You have nothing to be afraid of. My Dad likes you and so does Iris. You'll win over Joe too, in time."

Warmth suffused him, as it always did, at the unwavering faith in his lover's eyes, banishing the winter chill. He raised their interlocked hands and pressed a kiss on Barry's knuckles, reflecting that softness back at him. "I hope so. I want to be someone you can take home to your cop Dad.".

"You should have thought of that before starting a career in vigilanteism."

"Definitely a misstep, I see that now," Oliver nodded. 

They basked in the warmth of their own small pocket of happiness, insulating them from the fetid air and the dull sludge and sleet of the city. A tendril of fear curled in Oliver's heart, some part of him still paranoid and disbelieving that he got to have this at all.

He cradled the side of Barry's face, protectiveness rising."Be careful," he told him seriously.

"Of what? Central is not the crazy town full of masked criminals and crimefighters," Barry rolled his eyes and raised a pointed brow at him. "Besides, it's a little rich coming from the man who nearly coded in the Arrow Cave two nights ago. You're the one who needs to take better care of yourself."

"If I do, will you stop calling the foundry that?," said Oliver, resigned.

"Nope," Barry kissed his hand, eyes dancing.

Something of the lingering worry must have shown in his eyes however. His partner's face softened. "Don't worry, Oliver. I'm just going to watch Harrison Wells give a speech, witness the revolution of science as we know it and then go home with Iris and eat Joe's Christmas turkey. What kind of trouble could I possibly get into?"

The distant rumble beneath their feet announced the arrival of the train. "Barry Allen, if there's one thing I've learned about you over the past year," he said, a wry smile tugging at his mouth, "it's that if there's trouble to be had, you'll find it."

...

He was on the island again, stones scraping and bloodying his bare feet as he scrabbled up the rocky slope from the beach. Barry grinned at him in excitement from above. "Oliver, hurry up! We have to catch the man in the lightning!"

Storm clouds menaced from overhead and a pit opened in his stomach. He tried to climb faster with little progress. "Barry, it's not safe!" he yelled, but the wind that buffeted his face carried his words away. "Wait for me!"

But Barry only waved and disappeared over the hill. Oliver belly-crawled to the top to see him running through the trees, too far for him to ever catch up, but he had to try.

"Barry, please!," he called as he ran, jumping over tree roots, struggling to keep him in his sights as the driving sheets of rain obscured his vision. Thunder split the air, drowning his cries and Barry continued to out-pace him, his carefree laughter ringing eerily throughout the forest.

Something caught his foot and he tripped, falling face-down in the mud. He twisted around, trying to free himself, and came face to face with Shado.

She had emerged half-way from the earth, covered in mud and silt, her once-beautiful face sunken and waxy in death. "You left me to rot," she spat at him, "now you're going to stay with me."

He twisted and kicked out in horror but her grip was a vice around his ankle. Lightning speared down from the sky, striking the tree above him with a deafening crack. He rolled out of the way in time to avoid the enormous branch that crashed to the ground, crushing Shado back into the earth. "No!" he cried. He had never meant her to die again.

Lightning flashed once more and suddenly Slade stood over him, a huge sword pointed at his chest. An arrow was potruding out of one eye, blood streaming down his face. "You killed her, kid," he snarled. "You killed her again.

His elbow sank into the silt as he scrambled backwards - and then the rest of him was also sinking, trapped. "Oliver!" Barry's voice echoed above him as the bog dragged him down, the rain pelting into his mouth, choking him, " _Oliver_!"

"Oliver. Wake up."

He jerked upright with a gasp.

His hand shot out to land a nerve-strike to the other person's neck a split second before he recognized Iris. Trying to calm his breathing, he put his hand down slowly, heart juddering against his ribs.

The hospital room was dark except for the light above the bed, illuminating Barry's unconscious form, the quiet only broken by the steady beep of the heart monitor and the susurration of the ventilator. Iris was eyeing him in concern, dark curtain of hair brushing his arm as she leaned over him. 

"Hey," Oliver rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Eight. Dad'll be back soon. I came straight from work. Did you eat anything?" she asked briskly, bustling around the room.

Oliver shrugged, wincing at the now-permanent kink in his neck. "Grabbed something from the hospital cafeteria. Surprisingly good pudding cups."

She gave him an unimpressed look and handed him a Jitters pastry bag. He stuffed a croissant into his mouth gratefully.

"Have the doctors been? Anything new?" She leaned over Barry worriedly, pushing his hair back from his face as though searching for signs of change.

"Not since you called this afternoon, no."

She sighed, then forced a bright smile. "So," she said, dragging a chair beside him. "Did you two have fun today?"

"Oh, yeah. We had a busy morning," said Oliver, forcing an answering brightness in turn, "I helped the nurse give him a bath and a shave. Don't get me wrong, I love the man, but scruff is not a good look on him," he shook his head ruefully.

Iris giggled. "Yeeah. Barry just can't grow facial hair. It's the bane of his life," her grin turned wicked. "Did he tell you about the time he came home from college with a moustache?"

"No, really?" Oliver snorted in surprise.

"It was awful. He looked like a used car salesman from the seventies," she said in glee. "Dad and I couldn't keep a straight face. He was so mad!"

He put his pastry down. "Please tell me you have pics."

"Pfft, please, of course I have pics. I ran for the camera the moment he walked in the door." Iris broke into fresh giggles at Oliver's admiring expression.

"You are an evil person."

She gasped. "You hear that Barry? He's calling me evil. You gonna take that lying down?"

They both froze, staring wide-eyed at each other. Then burst into almost hysterical laughter.

"Oh my God," Oliver buried his face in his hands, "that was awful."

Iris swatted his shoulder, still shaking with mirth. "Excuse you, it was an amazing pun. Don't you think so, Barry?"

"You see?," Oliver leaned toward Barry conspirationally, "Evil."

They subsided, smiling. Iris took Barry's hand. "You think he can hear us?," she asked wistfully, playing with his limp fingers, "The forums say they can hear and understand sometimes but can't respond -"

"It's a Scale Three coma, Iris. Brain activity in that state usually indicates complete unconsciousness." He had, in the last three weeks, researched the subject with a diligence he had failed to apply to any of his abortive careers at Ivy League universities. He knew Iris had too.

"Doesn't mean he's not dreaming," she said stubbornly, "I know the doctors say it's unlikely because he doesn't have a sleep-wakefulness cycle but they also don't have a clue why he's flatlining and seizing at the same time..."

There was another pause, both of them holding their breath. They had fallen into a pattern of not talking about the seizures more than necessary, first beause they were terrifying but also out of an unspoken shared superstition that the mere mention of them would precipitate an onset.

But the moments went by and Barry continued to be still, the heart monitor beeping steadily.

Oliver finally broke the silence. "Well, if he can hear us, he's probably horrified at how much blackmail material we're going to be exchanging while he's getting his beauty sleep," he said, teasing a wan smile out of Iris. "And pretty bored, cause I've been reading QC's financial reports and quarterly projections to him."

"Wow. Sounds riveting."

"He thought it was a real snooze, actually," said Oliver solemnly.

Iris broke into a peal of laughter. Oliver grinned back, pleased with himself, before his eyes fell on the doorway where -

\- Joe West was standing frozen.

"Detective West," he stood up from his seat, heart sinking. Well damn. After three weeks of painstakingly gaining the man's grudging approval too.

Iris turned around quickly as well. "Dad, we were just -"

But a smile was creasing his normally forbidding countenance, turning into a grin that transformed his face into a warmth that reminded Oliver of Barry's own. "A real snooze," the detective repeated, giggling.

The laughter that rippled among the room momentarily alleviated the pall that hung over it. For a few minutes they sat around Barry and chatted easily, occasionally talking to him too. It felt as though they were sitting in the Wests' living room having the normal family conversation he and Barry had envisioned during the holidays. Before the Accelerator explosion. 

Unfortunately, it was short lived.

The machines suddenly went haywire the exact same moment as the hospital lights started to flicker and die.

"Oh God, not again!"

Barry began to convulse and jerk on the bed. Oliver raced to hold him down but he kept thrashing like some ghastly marionnette pulled by invisible, torturous strings. Dimly he could hear Joe calling for help and Iris crying Barry's name over the terror drumming in his ears. The medical team streamed into the room, pushing him away and he let himself be shunted outside, reduced to watching helplessly.

"Barry!"

Iris was being restrained by a nurse, still shouting. Oliver watched numbly as Joe pulled her into his arms, face as haggard with shock as he felt. She buried her face in her father's chest and fell apart, the way he didn't know how to do anymore.

...

Henry Allen's face was always hopeful whenever he saw him. Oliver tried not to resent him for it, because having to extinguish it every time was awful.

"Is Barry -?" It was the first question that passed his lips the moment he picked up the phone, almost before he sat down and he slumped and aged a little more every time Oliver shook his head wearily.

But like his son, Henry was resilient of spirit, composing himself in short order. "It's been a while, Oliver," the man's smile and tone betrayed no accusation but Oliver still felt a stab of guilt.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, Dr. Allen," he rubbed the weariness from his eyelids. "Barely had any time between Barry and my mother and wrangling the board at Starling."

"That wasn't a complaint. Just concern. And when are you going to start calling me Henry?" the older man asked in mock-stern humour.

Oliver huffed a laugh and relaxed. "Sorry, Henry."

"You shouldn't worry about me," Henry's blue eyes were painfully understanding, "Iris has been stopping by regularly, keeping me in the loop."

"I'm glad. She's been amazing," said Oliver warmly. "Speaking of in the loop, Harrison Wells has spoken to Joe."

Henry's jaw tensed. "What does that man want?"

No one who loved Barry had much sympathy for the architect of the Particle Accelerator explosion, paralyzed and humiliated as he was. Even Henry Allen, as kind a man as had ever lived, couldn't forgive what he had done to his only child. Oliver hadn't thought he was the kind of man who would want to deck a man in a wheelchair but his knuckles itched every time he saw him on TV. Only the thought that this was probably how many Starling residents felt about his mother sobered him.

Still, objectively speaking, Wells's plan seemed pragmatic. Oliver didnt need a medical degree to know that the doctors were at a complete loss and with every seizure they came that much closer to losing Barry. 

Henry mulled this over at the end of his explanation. "What do you think?," he asked Oliver.

"It does make sense," he said begrudgingly.  "Barry's not getting better. We can't not try everything we can. And it would make me a hypocrite to begrudge someone trying to find redemption for a terrible mistake."

"But what do _you_ think?"

The fact that Barry's father had grown to value his judgment so much never failed to catch Oliver off-guard and humble him. 

"I don't trust him as far as I can throw him."

Henry searched his face for a long moment. Finally he jerked his head in a nod of understanding. "But you'll be watching him?"

Oliver's own jaw tightened. "You can count on it."

***

"You have to come home."

He ignored Felicity, continuing to stare at Barry's lax wrist in his hands, feeling the pulse beat humming-bird fast and thready, always seeming thin enough to dissolve.

She sighed. "I know you don't want to -,"

"I can't," he interjected firmly

" - but it's been five weeks. The Mirakuru is still out there and we still have no clue who the man in the skull mask is even though Digg and I have been shaking down as many known drug dealers as we can in the Glades. Isabel Rochev has been hounding us with calls...," Felicity sighed again, and this time he could hear the exhaustion in her own voice. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "The city is heading toward some kind of implosion, like with Merlyn last year. We can't let that happen again."

It was too much. _Then let it implode_ , he thought savagely. _Why do I have to be the one to save the goddamn city. What makes me so special? Haven't I paid enough for my family's sins?_

His grip on Barry's hand tightened. The truth was that he was terrified to let go for fear that the tremulous thread anchoring Barry to life would snap. He should have known it would end this way. Should have known better than to hope, should have pushed Barry away when he had the chance before he let him down too...

_"Why would you want to be with me?," he asked, searching Barry's eyes that still looked at him with such steady faith. "I failed the city. I failed everyone." Especially you._

_"You didn't fail everyone. We helped people. You gave people a chance to save themselves. Gave them hope," Barry cupped his cheek tenderly. "Gave me hope."_

_"It wasn't enough," but Oliver couldn't help turning his face into the comfort of that hand. "I wasn't enough. I'm no hero, Barry."_

_"Maybe not. But what you are is a good man willing to risk everything to keep people safe," said Barry. "Maybe that's what the city needs, more than a hero. And for that," his hand curled around Oliver's, "you will always be a hero to me."  
_  
"Oliver," Digg's urgent voice made him look up sharply. "There's been a bombing downtown. Three people dead. We have to go back _now_."

Oliver nodded and stood up, making himself release Barry's hand.

_I'm going to try and be the man you deserve._

He felt the shift from Oliver Queen to the Arrow as he squared his shoulders, emotion replaced by cold calculation. "I need to call Iris. Felicity, find out all you can about the bomber. Digg, get the jet ready. We'll plan en route."

***

"How's Barry?"

Felicity now had the answer automatically ready for Oliver's habitual question almost before he had finished clattering down the stairs to the Arrow Cave, Sara at his heels.

"Still stable. At least according to the video feed," she waved at the monitor that displayed the STAR Labs cortex, where her friend was hooked up to a depressing number of machines. "I feel kinda bad about hacking into that. Cisco and Caitlin really do seem to be doing their best to take care of him."

"I'm not willing to take any chances," said Oliver, hanging up his bow and divesting himself of his quiver almost carelessly, his eyes trained on the screen.

A derisive scoff sounded behind him. "Well that's a big fat lie."

Felicity tensed as Oliver rounded on Sara. The small blonde was unfazed by his looming. She continued to put away her gear without looking at him, ire emanating from her own movements.

He turned around in time to unfortunately catch Felicity sharing a nervous glance with Diggle, who immediately adopted his stolid dealing-with-Oliver's-dramatics stance.

Oliver took a deep breath and cocked his head with an even expression. "Something you want to tell me?" he said, with that "definitely-not-bristling-I-am-a-calm-rational-human-being" demeanor he used when defending some exceptionally stupid decision.

Diggle, as usual, opened with the reasonable tack that invariably put Oliver on the defensive. "Oliver, we know how hard this has been on you. We care about Barry too. But it's been three months -"

"I'm not giving up on him!"

"We're not asking you to!" Sara exclaimed. "But you're being sloppy! You're distracted, you're barely rested, you're taking stupid risks and getting hurt more than usual, which is really saying something," she accentuated her point by slapping her glove against his chest. Felicity flinched. Oh boy.

"I'm doing the best I can," Oliver gritted mutinously.

"Don't you get it, Ollie? You don't have to give up on Barry but you're not helping anyone like this!" Sara got right in his face and Felicity inched her chair further back into the safety of her computer bank. "Slade's got us like sitting ducks, Roy's out of control and whatever issue you're having with Moira right now, our families are in danger! Starling needs you!"

Colour had risen in Oliver's cheeks, his eyes glinting dangerously like he was about fire right back at Sara. But then the fight seemed to deflate right out of him. He slumped, the sheer exhaustion he was fighting a losing battle with weighing down his broad shoulders. It made Felicity's heart hurt. "I'm already doing all I can think of," he sighed, running a hand over his face, "what more do you want me to do?"

Sara stepped back. Her expression had softened but her voice was still stern and unyielding. "If there's anything I've learned while I've been gone, it's that to protect people you have to focus on what's in front of you. You can't have your head in Central City if you're going to fix the problems here," Felicity winced a little at her bluntness. "Otherwise you'll lose both."

***

Despite years of yearning for its comfort, the Queen mansion had never really felt like home after he had returned. Now it was merely a hollow shell preparing to pass into the hands of strangers, his failures dogging him with each echoeing footstep. 

_"Thea is out there hurt or worse because of one person - and it's not Slade Wilson," Roy's eyes burned in his gaunt face. "I believed in you."_

_"How could you not tell me Malcolm Merlyn was my father?" Thea's eyes were full of accusation and betrayal as she curled into herself. "I believed in you."_

_"I'd say they'd lost faith in your leadership, but that would imply there was any," said Isabel snidely, vicious victory sparking in her eyes. "Maybe you should have focused a little less on your...evening activities."_  
  
Even his own room felt like it belonged to someone else, except for the framed picture of himself and Barry sitting on the mantlepiece.

They were both wearing ugly Christmas sweaters that Barry had insisted were traditional, snuggled on the couch in the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. Barry was wrapped in his arms with a look of supreme contentment on his face while Oliver pressed a tender kiss to his tousled head tucked under his chin. He had spent that night at the mansion for the first time, smugly relishing making love in the bed of Oliver's adolescence. Waking up to Barry's drowsy half-lidded gaze had filled him with a contentment he hadn't known was possible.

_"I'm so happy I'm frightened," Oliver confessed, his face buried in Barry's neck._

_"Why are you frightened?" Barry reached back to card his fingers through Oliver's hair._

_He tightened his arms around him. "Of what would happen if I lost you."_

_Barry turned around to face him, smile sleep-soft and sweet. "You could never lose me."  
_  
_But you lied,_ thought Oliver, bile rising in his throat as he stared at the picture in his hands. _You left me too._

The rage he hadn't realized was simmering just beneath the surface suddenly blazed white-hot. He hurled the picture at the wall and swept an arm across the entire mantlepiece, clocks, curios and pictures joining the shattered frame on the floor.  The memories of failure and betrayal chased him one after the other as he destroyed every memento in the room in a red haze, kicking, ripping, smashing.

The room was littered in glass shards and debris when he was finally spent, sliding along the wall to drop limply onto the floor. At his feet, Barry's and his happy smiles gazed up at him from the broken frame. 

***

Oliver had had this nightmare many times before, replaying that night again and again until he was crying for it to end. But those had taken place in the darkness and freezing wind of the island, the pale torchlight illuminating Sara's and Shado's terrified faces before Ivo shot Shado in the head. Sometimes both her and Sara. Over and over.

Now the harsh beams of the truck's headlights and Oliver's own concussion made everything swim in amber, and the voices begging for their lives belonged to his mother and sister.

"Choose!"

No. This was just another nightmare. It had to be. _Please God. Please._

But the ropes cutting into his wrists were very real and part of him knew there would be no merciful awakening from this, any more than there had been the last time. 

"Let me make the right choice now! Kill me! It's me you want!" he pleaded desperately, ignoring Thea's and his Mom's renewed cries. _I can't take this anymore. Please stop hurting them. Let me die and be with Barry. Let it all end._

"I will kill you," sneered Slade, drawing his gun from his belt and cocking it. "Only more slowly than you would like. I confess, I enjoyed how much pain you've been in watching your lover die by inches," he gloated over Oliver's face and the thought of the deranged man standing over Barry's unconscious form sent ice through him, "But it wasn't enough. Despite everything, you still keep clinging to a strand of hope, however thin. Hope that I can never have." Slade straightened, turning back to his mother and sister. "No, Oliver. I need you to taste true despair. I need you to suffer by my own hand, not just fate's."

"And so...," he laid the barrel of the gun over little Thea's head in a mockery of benediction, ignoring her face soaked in tears. "Choose."

"Please," Oliver choked. "Don't."

"Choose!" Over his mother's head this time.

The fury erupting from his chest was a living thing, searing across his veins, raging to rip Slade's throat out, to feel the satisfying crunch of his neck breaking, to stab an arrow clean through his other eye socket with his bare hands. Yet, the ropes still held.

"CHOOSE!"

But Moira was struggling to her feet, head held proudly aloft despite the arms wrenched behind her back.

"Mom?" _No. No no no no no._ "What're you doing?" 

"There is only one way this night can end," said Moira, voice steady through a throat raw with tears. She turned to Slade, composed and dignified even with the sweat and grime streaking her hair and face, "we both know that, don't we, Mr. Wilson?"

Oliver heard himself and Thea pleading as though from far away. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. He suddenly remembered his Dad in the raft, pointing the gun at his own temple.  _Mom, please don't leave me too._

"Close your eyes, baby!" Moira implored, but Oliver couldn't look away.

Slade seemed taken aback. "You possess great courage," he said deferentially, lowering his gun and turning away. For one wild moment, it seemed as though she might be spared - but then he saw Slade's hand grasp the hilt of his sword.

Thunder rumbled, reverberating the ground beneath his feet. Oliver remembered distantly that there had been a storm on the island that night as well. 

Thea screamed as Slade whirled around, the blade flashing silver.

And the world turned gold.

The flare of incredible light seared his eyes, static raising every hair on his body. A moment later, a sonic boom knocked him sideways as something _immense_ cleaved the world in two.

Oliver was only stunned for a bare moment before his reflexes took over, rolling him to his feet almost in the same motion. He shook his head, clearing his vision to see Slade fallen against a tree some ten feet away, trying to struggle to his feet. His mother and sister were nowhere to be seen except for the ropes on the ground.

Panic thudded wildly in his chest. "What did you do?," he yelled at Slade, "What did you do to them?"

But the other man's countenance was just as confused as his own as he staggered around almost foolishly.

"Thea! Mom!" Oliver yelled. He suddenly realized his hands were untied.

Slade seemed to finally regain his bearings and rounded on him, his face a rictus of fury. "SEARCH THE PERIMETER!" he roared into the darkness. "BRING THEM TO ME!"

Something gleamed on the ground a few feet away. A bare flicker of Slade's eye confirmed that he had seen it too. Their eyes locked on each other for a milisecond before they both _lunged_ sideways for the gun.

Oliver's knee landed in Slade's gut the same time as Slade's armoured knuckles caught him in the jaw. Stars burst across his vision but he hooked his ankle around the other man's leg without pause. They rolled around in the dirt, scrabbling for the weapon until Slade managed to pin Oliver to the ground, closing his preternaturally strong hand around his throat.

He knew what it was when he felt it this time, the earth trembling beneath him a second before gold light filled his vision, incandescent enough to blind him through his eyelids, to burn him - but it only enveloped him in a gentle warmth before the world _tilted_.

The ground under his feet turned to pressurized air that locked him in place as the rest of the world rushed past in a blur, a tidal wave giving the illusion of being dragged into the sea. But he was not gasping for breath and his eyes did not sting; he was engulfed in a warm, secure bubble, golden rods of light streaming on either side of him, of _them_ , a masked person with lightning eyes -

\- and suddenly it all stopped, slamming the breath from his lungs, the ground hard beneath his feet. The thunder clap rang in his ears before he had finished falling to his knees.

It had all happened between one blink and the next.

He grasped the earth, disoriented. Only it wasn't earth at all but concrete.

"Whoa, easy there," said an oddly vibrating voice. A gloved hand laid on his back. Oliver flinched and rolled away from it, gaining his feet again.

A tall, almost lanky man in a form-fitting suit was silhouetted against the backdrop of...city lights? They were on a rooftop?

"Who are you?" Oliver demanded, falling into a defensive stance despite still fighting nausea. "Where are we?"

"We're on the roof of Verdant" said the man again in that mechanically resonant voice. There was something oddly familar about it. "Don't worry, your mother and sister are safe. I left them at the Glades precinct. Captain Lance will take care of them."

Oliver noted that the man had gotten Quentin's designation wrong but there were more pressing concerns. "How did we get here? Where's Slade?"

"Deathstroke is, uh, taking a small nappy nap," said the man, airily wiggling his  fingers. "I knocked him out, picked you up and ran you here. Don't worry, it wasn't a bridal carry."

"You _carried_ me?"

"Don't sound so surprised. I'm pretty strong. Also the speed helps a lot," he shrugged in what seemed like self-deprecation.

"That's not possible."

Oliver swallowed, thoughts racing. He had to find a way to get off this roof and he needed answers. But how do you escape something this fast?

"Isn't it? I thought you said you were more ready to believe in the impossible than most people."

_I've spent my whole life chasing the impossible._ His heart stopped.

"Who are you?"

The man stepped closer to him so Oliver could see his face more clearly in the blazing glow of the city that suffused the evening sky. He wanted to take a step back but his feet were again rooted to the ground as the man ducked his head and pulled back the mask.

Barry smiled tentatively, hair tousled and cheeks wind-flushed. "Hey."

  
***

Either Oliver had forgotten how beautiful Barry was when he was awake or Slade had hit him really hard and he was now hallucinating.

"You. You're not-" his throat was closing. "You're not real."

Not-Barry looked at him gently. "I promise I'm real. See?" He took off a glove and reached out a hand between them. Oliver stared at it. The long slender fingers and slim wrist were so familiar, he reached out to touch it almost without thinking.

The other man's eyes were tender and his smile tired but sweet as ever, dimpling his cheeks. The hand, soft and warm, slotted neatly into his own, fingers intertwining in sense-memory.

"It's me, Oliver," he said, stepping closer. "It's really me."

Oliver touched the man's face as though in a dream. He traced the planes of those cut-glass cheekbones, the shadows cast by his sweeping lashes, the freckles around his eyes, the plush pink lips. They gently brushed his own open mouth and he was suddenly surrounded by the scent of rainstorms and honey beneath which he could sense the taste and feel that was uniquely _Barry_.

"Barry," he breathed. " _Barry_."

Oliver grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him forward for a furious kiss that made him grunt and stagger in surprise. He fisted his hands through those soft chestnut waves, holding Barry's head in place to sweep his tongue deeper into his mouth, starving for his taste, his touch, his moans driving him even more delirious.

It was an eternity of bliss and yet not nearly enough when his lover broke free. He caught Oliver's wrists, panting. "Oliver," Barry leaned their foreheads together, both their breathing ragged. Oliver's blood pounded in his ears. He only realized he'd been crying when Barry brushed the wetness away with his ungloved thumb. "Oh Ollie," he murmured sadly.

"Are you dead?," Oliver choked out. His vision blurred with tears but he let them brim over, afraid to blink. "Are we both dead? Is this heaven?"

"What? Ollie, no," Barry huffed a laugh and turned his face into Oliver's hand to kiss it. "We are both very much alive."

"But I need you to listen to me," his grip on his wrists tightened urgently, those wonderfully awake and alert eyes pinning his own with startling intensity, "I don't have much time. First off, I'm not really back."

Oliver's heart sank and he pulled Barry impossibly closer, running frantic hands over his body searching for damage. "What do you mean?"

Catching his hands again, Barry turned Oliver's chin up to face him full-on. "To understand what I'm about to tell you," he spoke careful and clear, "you need to believe in the impossible. Can you do that?"

Oliver laughed incredulously. "I don't need to believe, I just saw it."

"No, there's more to it. Listen," he took a deep breath, "I'm from the future."

"From...the future," repeated Oliver blankly. This somehow seemed to make perfect sense, in that surreal way the twists and turns of a dream seemed perfectly reasonable.

"Yes. The me of right now is still in a coma at STAR Labs," said Barry. "I'm going to wake up in a few months and I'm going to have these powers."

"Powers? Like...turning into lightning?"

"No, but I am lightning fast and I can generate my own lightning bolts...eventually." Something tight flickered over his expression but he shook it away and refocused. "The point is, I will develop my powers over time until one day I accidentally time-travel."

"Absolutely nobody can find out what really happened here tonight, not even me. I need to find out about my powers by myself and you can't tell me or anyone until one day, I have to deliberately choose to time travel for the first time," Barry cupped Oliver's face in his hands, almost vibrating with urgency. "You have to promise me."

Oliver was still struggling to get a grip on reality. "But why?"

"Because that is how it happened before and now must be again," said Barry. His face was inscrutable. "Anything else will create a paradox. Promise me."

"I promise. I won't tell anyone." He still didn't have the slightest idea what Barry was saying but he would promise his soul to have his partner back like this, warm, responsive, _alive_.

He couldn't make himself let go of him though. He wasn't sure he knew how. "But - Barry, there's so much happening in the city right now - I need you. I don't know if I can do this without you."

"Oliver, you can do this," and there was that immovable trust in Barry's eyes that he had been starving for, making his heart soar and humbling him to his core at the same time, "It won't be easy but you're not alone. Trust in your family and your team. They have your back. You can save the city and you _will_ beat Slade."

The band that had constricted his chest for months finally loosened, allowing free breath. "You really believe that?"

Barry smiled. "I don't have to believe it. I've already seen it."

It suddenly struck Oliver that this Barry was different in a way that had nothing to do with the mask or the powers. There was an invisible weight on the slope of those broad shoulders. Even his smile was not the full-blown beam of sunshine he was used to, some sad shadow pulling at the creases of his mouth and eyes, and the furrow of his brow. There was a battered and bowed gravity to him that Oliver recognized.

_What happened to you? What made you so much like me?_

Perhaps Barry had seen him reading too much in his demeanor. Stepping back uncomfortably, he pulled Oliver's hands away. "I have to go," he softened at the sound of distress that escaped Oliver, hands scrabbling to pull him back. "This is real, Ollie," he framed his face in his hands again, eyes as tender as they were intense, "I promise. I'm going to wake up."

Oliver swallowed past the knot in his throat and nodded. "Okay. I believe you."

"And I believe in you," Barry gently pried his hands loose and Oliver, with a Herculean effort, let him.

He stood at the edge of the building, silhouetted in shadow and scarlet against the liquid yellow-gold of the city. Electricity crackled at his feet, spidering up his body which Oliver could sense _vibrating_ with power even at this distance. Almost a demi-god, an entity that belonged to a place and time Oliver could not hope to follow. 

A sudden desperation gripped him. "Barry," he called, "I love you."

Barry gave him that soft, sad smile over his shoulder. "I know," he said, and ightning sparked in his eyes.

Oliver was braced for the sonic boom this time. He watched in awe as the red-gold comet blazed across the city into the horizon before disappearing into a vortex of swirling blue light.

_Now that... is really cool._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Bonus deleted scene at my tumblr.](https://pinkletterday.tumblr.com/post/176989245455/a-stitch-in-time-bonus-scene-1)


	2. Chapter 2

 

Rage was still surging in Slade Wilson's blood as he broke into into STAR Labs. It was laughably easy to tear through the electrified barbed wire and steel doors. Just as their decoy had been insultingly transparent, as though he would believe Queen would trust a CCPD safehouse to protect his beloved.

The towering ediface was reduced to a darkened husk of its former glory, emptied of nearly all its personnel except for a handful of skeleton staff that had left for the night and the pair of scientists keeping vigil over Barry Allen.

His plan to kill Oliver's mother in front of him may have been thwarted (by what he still did not know) but he had promised him a slow, lingering death. As satisfying as it had been to watch Oliver struggle more with each day his lover remained comatose, Slade knew better than anyone how tenaciously the boy could cling to the slightest lifeline. It was time to sever it completely.

He went in alone. Schematics for the building indicated that the most secure part of the facility would be its sub-levels, which meant there would only be one point of entry - or exit, which could be turned to his advantage.

He had pried the service elevator doors open, and was in the process of considering how best to set the C4 charges within the yawning shaft when -

Something exploded into him, slamming him into the opposite wall with a force that would have broken every bone in an ordinary human's body. His vision swam, head ringing like a cow bell for an instant before another burst of red light sent him hurtling down the corridor.

Choking for breath through the burning of broken ribs, he realized the thing that had rescued the Queens in the clearing had returned. He ripped off his helmet, gasping for air and tried to belly-crawl away.

A pair of boots appeared in his eye-line. They followed long grey leather-clad legs extending to a blurry yellow torso and Slade must have knocked his head too hard because the figure appeared to be _vibrating_.

Glowing red eyes in a yellow mask looked down at him. "It was a mistake to come here, Mr. Wilson," it growled. The voice was clearly modulated with an odd resonance. 

"What are you?" Slade demanded hoarsely.

A gloved hand grasped him by the back of his neck, hauling him to his knees. The red eyes bored into his now-bloodied good one. "Something even you, with your primitive chemical enhancements, cannot conceive." 

Slade smashed his fist into the thing's mid-section, but fell forward into empty air. A moment later he was slammed facedown from behind, feeling his nose crack on the floor.

"You think Barry Allen but a pawn in your game with Oliver Queen," said the creature, looming over him, "What you do not know, is that it is the Green Arrow who will be a mere footnote in the Flash's legacy."

Slade's hand closed around the knife holstered at his thigh. Whipping around with a snarl, he slashed at the thing's face - only to find it slicing through air once more. Letting the momentum to roll him to his feet, he sheathed his knife and drew his gun, closing his eye against the still-spinning room.

There was a subtle displacement of air, the smell of ozone. Slade fired blind, round after round, anticipating every possible trajectory - until something jammed his gun.

Only his superior reflexes stopped his finger on the trigger, narrowly avoiding it exploding in his hand. Static raised the hair on his body. He opened his eye, knowing what he'd find.

One yellow arm ceased blurring to reveal a handful of gleaming bullets.  "Missed," it hissed in amusement.

Slade blinked the blood from his eye and stared it down. "I didn't."

In a split second he drew his back-up and fired at the raised arm. The creature clutched it with a yell, the bullets spilling on the floor. He rammed a knee into its sternum and pistol-whipped it across the jaw.  It staggered back and he pressed his advantage, landing another glancing blow to the back of the head. He fired again as went reeling - but his quarry vanished in a streak of light, leaving only a red afterimage.

He didn't wait around to figure out where it had gone. Dropping the jammed gun, he raced back towards the service elevator, shooting the back-up behind him in a haphazard spray of bullets. It was only a deterrent to buy a precious few seconds. Half-blind and in the open, he had to level the playing field.

He dove into dark room off the corridor. Lobbing a smoke grenade in the middle of the room, he unsheathed his sword and fell into a crouch behind metal rack full of dismantled electronics.

Laughter echoed around the room. "Well done, Mr. Wilson!" Red Eyes sounded more hungrily excited than angry. "I should have known you would be a worthy adversary. I admit, I have been growing complacent."  The hiss of the smoke cannister and the voice resounding off the walls made it almost impossible to pinpoint the tell-tale whir of the creature's vibration. 

"However - it is in your best interests to take your petty little squabble with Queen elsewhere," Red eyes continued "Kill him, torture him, I don't care." 

There it was, a displacement of air like a mini-vaccuum, a flash of red. Slade flung the grenade in its path. The blast illuminated a figure reeling away. He crashed the rack down on the creature's head, a metal breaking apart in a shower of sparks, katana sweeping a diagonal arc -  but it cleaved only air. 

His back hit the wall in a bone-rattling crash. Through the starsburst of pain in his skull, he felt a vise grip around his wrist and intercepted the swing just before the blade was forced up to slit his own throat.

Red eyes gleamed gleefully over the sword, both their hands in a death grip around the hilt. "Oh you are _good_ -"

It just evaded Slade's foot slamming into its groin.The momentary lapse let him grab his knife and slash upwards. The move would have bisected the thing from hip to shoulder, but it flashed back, missing only by a hair -

\- and then his forearm was _wrenched_ around the wrong way with a sickening crack. White hot pain erupted from his broken elbow, the knife slipping from his hand; but managed to keep his grip on the sword hilt. He jammed it backwards into the creature's gut - and missed again. A rain of lightning-fast blows made him crash to the floor.

Red light seared through his eyelid. He slit his eye open to find himself caged in vortex of lightning, static crackling through him, the pressurized air pinning him into the ground.

Fury flared over the daze that threatened to drag him unconscious. _No_ , he thought, rage burning brighter than his agony, _I will not die without my vengeance._

Red Eyes blurred in place in the middle of the lightning storm, its yellow man-shaped outline clear. Slade scrabbled for his katana, fingers again finding the hilt. With a roar, he swung it upwards, battered torso screaming in protest -

\- only to see it pass through it like a hologram. 

The hell-fire engulfed him completely, blood, rage, pain and lightning all one and the same, and now the world was rushing through him, legs locked in place, breath stolen from his lungs. 

And then it stopped.

He lay there, stunned, the aftershocks passing through his numb body. It took a moment to realize that the stars swimming across his vision were real. Somehow, the thing had dragged him all the way outside.

"Well, this has been fun," mocked Red Eyes, appearing above him. Slade lunged weakly for its leg and was rewarded with a kick to the head. "You really do not give up do you?" it laughed incredulously. 

The creature kneeled down in front of him as he fought shock and nausea, unable to move. It grasped his chin, forcing his head around to face the devil eyes. Even through his own haze of pain, almost blinded with blood, Slade registered that Red Eyes's own breathing was labored, its arm held stiffly at its side.

"It appears that you do deserve your reputation, Mr. Wilson," it said. "And I appreciate the lesson to not underestimate you - or Mr. Queen." 

His head was thrown hard back against the ground and a boot crunched down on his broken arm, making him jack-knife up in agony. "But Barry Allen is mine to destroy, and mine alone," he heard uncompehending, fighting not to vomit. "History is waiting to be re-made." The boot lifted and he flopped back, desperately gulping air.

And then he was flying once more, catapaulted high over the mangled gate. He crashed into his own truck like a broken doll, the metal crunching and glass shattering at the force of collision.

"Stay out of my way." The words echoed in Slade's ears before his world went dark. 

  
...

 

Oliver woke up to the morning sun streaming golden through the open curtains of his room. It was no sluggish awakening. He all but leapt out of bed, almost vibrating with energy. For how could he waste a second asleep when Barry was going to wake up soon?

He hummed as he made himself a proper breakfast of eggs and French toast and dressed in his sharpest business suit. His feet did not seem to touch the ground on the way to work, even stopping to buy a bouquet of flowers, beaming at passers-by.

"Good morning, Oliver. Wow. You look...happy," Felicity boggled at him as he strode past her into his office. "Is everything all right?"

"Haha," he said sarcastically. "Yes, I am happy. You know why?" he dropped into his chair and spun it around, grinning sunnily at her, "Because Barry's gonna wake up!"

Felicity paused at the door, looking uncertain. "Oliver -"

"I'm not in denial, Felicity," he leaned back, running a hand over his beard to hide the smile he couldn't stop, "I just - have a good feeling."

"Oliver, the hospital called -," said Digg, appearing at the door.

"Aha!" he jumped to his feet, mouthing  _I told you_ at Felicity and grabbed the flowers. "Let's go, Digg!"

He saw John and Felicity exchange a concerned look but ignored it, even when Digg kept sending him wary glances in the rearview mirror during the drive. How could Oliver possibly explain how he knew, though? He resigned himself to looking a little bit crazy, but it didn't matter. It wouldn't be long now. His hands were clammy in anticipation, and he brushed them along his trousers, heart beating wildly.

Digg attempted to hold him back when he got out of the car. "Oliver wait! There's something I have to tell you!" he called over the driver's seat, but Oliver had already swung the door shut and the cars behind them started honking. He gave him a rueful salute and raced up to Barry's hospital room, expecting to see him sitting up, surrounded by -

\- a somber gathering clustered around the door. The blanket was drawn high over Barry's prone form, the Wests sitting on either side of him. Joe had his face buried in Barry's chest, shaking with sobs, holding his hand. Tears were running down Iris's cheeks as she laid her hand on top of theirs.

Her eyes widened as she caught sight of him, stricken. "I'm so sorry, Oliver," she sniffled. "We couldn't wait any longer."

His stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"

"We sent a message to the office that we were pulling the plug today," said Iris sympathetically. "I'm sorry you missed saying goodbye."

"What? No!" he exclaimed, shoving his way through the crowd. "You don't understand! He's going to wake up!" He seized Barry by the shoulders, shaking him violently, "Barry! Wake up, Barr!"

But his lover's head flopped lifeless, face waxen, his body cold to touch.

People pressed around him in a commotion, pulling his hands away, dragging him back. Iris buffered herself between him and her irate father, pushing him backwards. "Is this some kind of joke?" Joe West demanded.

"No, no! You don't understand!," Oliver shouted futilely over Iris's head as he was shunted out of the room. She laid a calming hand on his arm and he grabbed her shoulders now, willing her to see sense. "Barry's going to wake up!"

"Why do you keep saying that?" cried Iris in frustration. "You've kept saying that all this time but never told us why! How do you know?"

"I know because - Barry rescued us that night! He...he time-travelled, he could run faster than sound....," he trailed off in confusion. It all sounded so implausible.

Iris's eyes gentled. "It was just a dream, Oliver," she said, taking his hands in hers. "You cant possibly think that was real. It was a dream you had, years ago." 

"...years?"

And suddenly he realized that Iris was, in fact, much older. Her face was still beautiful, but mature. A wedding band gleamed on her hand. Joe West's beard was entirely gray and even his own fingers were wrinkled with age -

"Mommy!" a little girl ran up and grabbed her hand. Iris tucked her into her side, ruffling her dark ringlets.

"We kept waiting because you seemed so sure," said Iris sadly. "But it's time to let go now. It was only a dream."

"No - no," he floundered, certainty ebbing away, "he rescued my mother! Ask Thea, ask my mother!"

"Mom's dead, Oliver." He whirled around to see Thea glaring accusingly at him. She was still young, wearing a black dress and pearls. "Mom's dead and you didn't even come to her funeral!"

Images and memories blurred into each other, a swirl of confusion in his head. The light had rescued them, hadnt it? But that was crazy. He remembered the sword flashing in Slade's hand, and he was almost, almost sure that it had impaled her right through the heart...why couldn't he remember?

"No," he stammered. "Mom...Mom's mayor now -"

Thea made a noise of disgust and shook her head. "God, look at you. Still delusional. Mom's dead and it was your fault! Go look outside if you dont believe me!"

She flung her hand out at the blinding silver sunshine beyond the large French windows. Oliver ran outside, down the cobbled steps of Queen Manor's garden path, out to where the headstones were. Mourners dressed in black scattered as he shouldered through them, trying to see -

MOIRA DREARDEN QUEEN, declared the tombstone.

His legs gave way, the ground hitting him hard in the knees. His chest was caving in, driving the breath from his lungs - it couldnt be true, couldnt be true - Barry had been there, with his lightning and his words -

Isabel Rochev laughed down at him. "What? That you could save the city? That you could save _yourself_?" Her lip curled in a cruel smile. "I dont know what's more unbelievable - you being anything but a fuck up, or a man made of lightning."

Oliver grasped handfuls of grass and earth, the world spinning around him, trying to hold onto the memories...trying to remember what was real. But it was like holding sand in his hands under the tide. "No. No. Barry -,"

Died in the Accelerator explosion. Died today. Died years ago. Never met Oliver.

Did Barry even exist? Did Oliver? Was the green hood and the mask and the arrowing people from the rooftops a dream too?

"I'm the Arrow!" he insisted desperately. The mourners meandered around him, unhearing, as the skies greyed above them. "I survived Lian Yu! I came back to right my father's wrongs!" It all seemed so...improbable the more he said it out loud. Raindrops started falling rapidly. There was a storm coming.

"I'M THE MAN IN THE GREEN HOOD!" he screamed, as thunder split the air.

"No, Oliver," said Tommy, looking down at him in pity. "You're dead."

He looked up at the tombstone again. It read OLIVER JONAS QUEEN.

...

His eyes flew open. He froze, blood pounding in his ears.

The cavernous ceiling of the foundry greeted him, shrouded in darkness save for the dim blue flourescence of the display case. There was no sound in the stillness except for his own heart beating a painful tattoo against his ribcage.

The tangled reel of his dreams and memories took a minute to unwind. He was the Arrow. Barry was in a coma at STAR Labs. He was going to wake up, because...he had visited from the future with lightning at his heels.

Terror coiled in his chest. That was absurd. Please let it not be absurd. Was it a memory, or a memory of a dream?

He shot upright as he realized who would know. Mom. Mom was alive. He had seen her just last night. 

He swung to his feet and grabbed his phone, the air rushing out of him in relief when his recent calls list showed "Mom".

She picked up after only a couple of rings. "Oliver?," her voice was thick with sleep, tinged with trepidation and so, infinitely wonderful. "Has something happened?"

It was like hearing her voice in that fishing boat all over again, finally sailing away from the choppy grey sea towards home. He fought the urge to cry. "Mom?"

"Oliver?" she sounded alert and afraid now. "Where are you? What's going on?"

"Mom." The knot in his throat choked his words. "I need you to tell me exactly what happened the night Slade kidnapped us."

There was a pause. "He was going to kill us. But lightning struck his sword and knocked him unconscious," she said, reciting well-learned lines. "When we came around, you had convinced one of Slade's men to drive us out of there, in exchange for a reward. You dropped us off at the precinct and went back with him to fulfill your end of the bargain." 

Oliver huffed a laugh through his tears. That was the least convincing Moira Queen sell ever. Lucky she had given such a stellar performance to the actual police. "I mean the real truth, Mom."

"Oliver, it's four am," she said, exasperation mixed with worry. "what is this about?"

"I just need to hear it, Mom."

Moira sighed. "I thought he was going to kill me," her voice only trembled slightly, "but then, there was this incredible light - and it was like time slowed down but the world sped up. Something was holding me, light all around us - and then we were at the Glades precinct," she trailed off in a whisper. "But we were frantic because you werent with us. You turned up a little later, though it seemed like hours to us. And then you told us to never tell anyone what we really saw."

The relief escaped him in a long sigh, the fearful tenterhooks releasing him into exhaustion. "Yeah. Thanks, Mom. I just...needed to hear that," he said, wiping his eyes.

"Okay," she said softly. There was a beat of silence. "Are you ever going to tell us what really happened?"

The mask Barry made him was lying on the work table in front of him. He picked it up, moulding the polymer fabric over his fingers.

"Maybe some day."

...

 

_**NEW TERROR ATTACK EVIDENCE UNVEILED** _  
_by Vesper Fairchild_

_New evidence has revealed that Alderman Sebastian Blood led a militia cult named The Church of Blood responsible for last week's terror attacks in Starling City. The mayor's office received a video confession two days before Blood's body was recovered from the Orchid Bay, in which he claimed to be the cult's leader known as Brother Blood, in charge of recruiting, brainwashing and administering an experimental steriod serum to its members._

_Blood claims to have been acting under the directive of Slade Wilson. Wilson was a benefactor to Moira Queen's mayoral campaign before he allegedly kidnapped her daughter and later the whole Queen family on the eve of the election. According to Blood, Moira Queen's murder was to have left the way clear for Blood to take office. Ms. Isabel Rochev, former vice president of acquisitions at Stellmoor International and CEO of Queen Consolidated, is also accused of being a co-conspirator. She gained control of the company last month by outsing Oliver Queen in a hostile takeover, orchestrated in the wake of Thea Queen's kidnapping._

_All evidence points to Blood, Wilson and Rochev to have been working in concert to carry out a mysterious vendetta against the Queen family. Blood appears to have had a change of heart when he discovered the extent of Wilson's planned devastation. The authorities have not yet been able to apprehend Wilson and Rochev, who are now considered fugitives from justice. The public is warned not to approach as they may be armed and dangerous._

 

_**MAYOR QUEEN COMMENDED FOR LEADERSHIP** _  
_by Marcus To_

_Missouri Governor Gillian Bueller has personally called to congratulate Mayor Moira Queen for her competence in managing the city during last week's crisis. Queen, who was sworn into office only twenty-four hours before the attacks commenced, took swift and decisive action in calling the National Guard and co-ordinating with the city's emergency services._

_"She was adamant that our men - nobody - try to engage these men head-on," says Patrick Finch, Chief of Police. "The reports coming in were crazy, of some kind of superhumans who couldn't be stopped by bullets and could kick through steel doors. A lot of us thought it was just panicked exaggeration but Mayor Queen took it very seriously. I'm very glad of it now although I disagreed with her then. In focusing our energies into evacuation rather than confrontation, we undoubtedly minimized many casualties."_

_Mayor Queen herself thanks the city's Chief of Police, as well as Fire Chief Kevin Donahue and District Attorney Kate Spencer for their trust and co-operation._

_She also commends Detective Quentin Lance of the SCPD for his brave and bold action in taking charge of the Glades precinct which took the brunt of the attacks. Lance was admitted to hospital with significant though non-critical injuries sustained while leading the surviving officers and civillians to safety. He is stated to now be in recovery. His daughter Laurel Lance, formerly of the CNRI, has been appointed Assistant District Attorney in recognition of her role in investigating and exposing Sebastian Blood. The appointment follows the dismissal of ADA Adam Donner in February._

_Speaking at the press conference at City Hall yesterday, Mayor Queen reiterated her faith in and commitment to Starling City._

_"My city and my children are now one and the same and I will stop at nothing to protect and nurture them. Starling City is strong and its children,_ my _children, do not yield to cowards in masks. Time and again they underestimate the strength, the resilience and perserverance of our communities. They will not prevail. We will celebrate the heroes that rose in our hour of need and bring justice to our victims. And we will rebuild stronger than ever."_

 

_**VIGILANTES INVOLVED IN TERRORIST TAKEDOWN** _

_by Nicola Scott_

_The vigilantes known as Arrow and Black Canary are rumoured to have played a crucial role in the takedown of these alledged "super soldiers", now called Brother Blood soldiers. Starling residents claim to have seen a team of masked men and women with bows and arrows and a blond woman weilding a bo staff clash head to head with a swarm of cult members at various points in the city._

_"I was on my way into Starling with a package from Central City for a friend of mine, when something hit my car," says Scott Snyder, 23. "Next thing I know, my car was upside down on the side of the highway and I'm trapped in my seat. I just managed to crawl halfway out of the wreck when this huge guy in a ski mask comes in and yanks me out, nearly ripping my leg off. I thought - I knew I was gonna die, I was screaming, but then an arrow came out of nowhere and hit him in the neck. He dropped like a sack of potatoes, right onto my broken leg. I remember a guy in a green hood hauling me out before I passed out. The Arrow saved my life, man," he concludes emotionally._

_Ray Palmer, 38, CEO of Palmer Technologies is also among the rescued. "My fiancé Anna and I only moved to Starling a few weeks ago. We were coming back from dinner downtown, walking to our car parked in Dixon Street, when these huge men - they just barrelled around the corner, knocking over cars like they were tin cans. People were screaming, running. We just froze. We didn't get out of the way fast enough. And then one of them grabbed Anna," he says, still appearing shaken. "I tried to fight him off but it was like hitting a wall. He was just about to snap Anna's neck when this blond woman in black leather leapt out of nowhere and smashed a pair of batons in his face. It was incredible," Palmer lights up in wonder. "She was like a whirlwind. Like something out of a comic book. She jammed huge tranq darts in them and they just dropped. She saved our lives. The Canary saved our lives."_

_Some emergency workers claim that the authorities actively collaborated with the vigilantes to track down the perpetrators and administer a special tranquilizer that negates the effects of the steroids. S_ _peculation is also rife that the Arrow may be involved in Wilson and Rochev's disappearance. The vigilante has been reported apprehending his targets since the earthquake disaster last May, with no confirmed killings. But some believe he may have made an exception in this case._

_"While it's a positive sign that the vigilante seems to have de-escalated in violence, the fact remains that this is a clearly a troubled and volatile man," says Dr. Avery Presnall, criminal psychologist and SCPD liason. "His actions being helpful in some instances do not erase the fact that he promotes and inspires vigilantism. The system may not be perfect, but there are very good reasons why one person should not play judge, jury and executioner. Regardless of what Mr. Wilson has done, killing him would be a regression of what seems to be the Arrow's developing values."_

_Other Starling citizens disagree._

_"Those bastards killed my son," says Lucia Perez, 49. Her son Sam, 19, was a victim of the first wave of the attacks. The young man died defending his family when Brother Blood soldiers stormed their now-destroyed deli in Crescent Circle. "Them, Wilson and that demon Sebastian Blood. They tricked us, destroyed our livelihoods, our children - when does it end? Who gets justice for us, huh? For my boy? Anyone who says these people don't deserve death can't tell God from Satan. I hope the Arrow killed him," the distraught mother cries "I hope he made it painful."_

_While their methods and morality still remain controversial, most of the city's emergency workers and residents are only thankful for the vigilantes involvement, especially in the Glades._

_"The cops can say whatever the hell they want about the Arrow," says a Glades resident who wished to remain nameless. "Truth is, he's been on our side from the beginning. Sure, we didn't like how trigger happy he was when he started out. Some of those perps were just kids who got mixed up in bad business. But then he been scaring them straight. He was here last year, digging people out of the Glades and he was here this time too, going right in the thick of it, tackling those monsters head-on. Him and the blond lady. The Canary's made it safe for women and working girls to walk the streets.They're heroes," she says firmly. "They're our heroes."_

 ...

Something made Henry's eyes widen with disbelief when he saw Oliver waiting to see him. He had barely sat down before he grabbed the phone. "Is Barry?"

"No, he's still the same," said Oliver apologetically.

The older man looked visibly taken aback, slowly deflating. "...You're looking pretty upbeat," he said in a confusion tinged with suspicion.

Oliver hadn't realized how much of the small, fierce flame of hope he kept secreted inside him was outwardly apparent. So much for a poker face. "Because he's going to wake up, Henry," He leaned forward, willing his own unfettered belief to reach the man through the thick, grimy glass. "Maybe not for a while, but he will."

Henry searched his face curiously for a long moment. "Not that I'm not glad that neither of us are going to stop hoping. But you seem...quite certain."

Oliver smiled. "I've learned to believe in miracles."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I've been dying to post this for the past two days.  
>    
> [ Bonus/deleted scenes 2 and 3](https://pinkletterday.tumblr.com/post/176994763485/a-stitch-in-time-bonus-scenes-2-and-3)
> 
> [Bonus scenes 3 and 4 at my tumblr](https://pinkletterday.tumblr.com/post/176988991210/a-stitch-in-time-bonus-scenes-4-and-5)
> 
> I'm not a journalist so my articles may be a bit suspect. 
> 
> And yes I did have a private chuckle with my DC references. XD

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story, I'd love to hear from you! You can also visit me at [pinkletterday](https://pinkletterday.tumblr.com) on tumblr. <3


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